A Strange Instance of Ulster
by SouBU
Summary: "Shirou" was the name Scathach gave to a baby found in the forest, surrounded by the bodies of a grizzly murder. Timelines and universes that twist and tie into an amalgam world; a destined king; a succession crisis that becomes civil war; agendas of a Wizard Marshal and Flowery Mage; Shirou's true origin- all events that trace back to a single wish made upon the Grail: true love.
1. Prologue: a Wish and a Child

**Prologue: A Wish and a Child**

 _ **I was in love.**_

That could be the only explanation.

The flutter in my heart whenever my mind wandered to him was affirmation enough.

The warm tingle that spread from my chest to the tips of my fingers and toes was affirmation enough.

Whenever I would see him, my feet would compel me to run; to jump into his arms and hold him tight, making sure to never let go. To not let him go, _for his existence was my existence._

My heart would burst in ecstasy whenever I saw him smile, _for his happiness was my happiness._

A dull pain in my breast would throb and tighten whenever he struggled against forces far greater than himself. It would start to twist and turn my insides, as I agonizingly watched him grit his teeth through pain and anguish. The bottom of my stomach would go numb at the sight of him succumbing to his wounds, _for his suffering was my suffering._

But his bravery and self-sacrifice would shine through these dark thoughts, like a sunbeam chasing away a blanket of black clouds from the sky. He was a Hero. No, he was _**my**_ Hero. A gallant champion who brought hope and reason to my haphazard life. His brilliant sword would slice through enemies not for martial glory, but for what he believed in. His central dogma stayed immaculate and without compromise to the very end, never bowing to the machinations of Beasts, Man, or Gods alike. I thought love was an impossibility for me. Me, a woman who had rejected many suitors that came for my hand. And also myself, who had equally sought as many men that passed my fancy as I denied. But none stirred a torrential and chaotic passion from deep within me like him.

 _ **I, was in love with him.**_

I knew this quite well, and never did I deny it, but neither would I accept it. Afraid I was, of what would become of me if I did. So, I simply continued to peer into the reflective slabs of glass that stretched from floor to ceiling, allowing me to behold his adventures, exploits, and his everyday life upon their shining surfaces. It was only a matter of time before I could avoid it no longer. He was a man whose very conviction would outlast mountains. Whose sparkling persona outshines stars. Whose fearlessness would move any that stood before or beside him. To a man like that, I was weak. My resolve wavered as the days continued and he quickly had me in his grasp, intentionally to or not.

 _ **Ah yes, I love him. I love everything about him.**_

As soon as I admitted it, even allowing the errant thought to pass through my mind, it was over. My heart had won out over my mind and subjugated my very soul. I curled in my spacious bed like a fetus, my hair spread to and forth around my head not unlike a halo. Everything was colorful and far more vibrant than I ever remembered. The world around me was bright, brighter than I could ever picture. Everything was alive again, their motions fluid and real. And so to came the _feelings,_ pushing through whatever barriers I had created during my life, like a raging river past a broken dam.

Adoration, as I came to cherish every facet of his being. Be it physical or of character, I held it dear. Embarrassment, at realizing I had become a young, love-struck maiden once more. I would daydream and dozing of, with my mind full of him. Affectionate, I wanted to caress him and let him know that I was always by his side; I wanted him to promise to protect me in return. Lust, I wanted to make him **mine**. I sought to kiss him and move my hand to feel every toned muscle of his frame, like I was marking my territory. Not unlike the animals. I fantasized about taking him to my bed and spending days on end making love and becoming one. Shivers went up my spine at the thought of his arms running across my back and chest, not even air between our entwined bodies. Hopeful, perhaps one day we would have children, and his mantel would be taken up by our children. Sons and daughters of a Hero who was an ally of justice, they would be reveled throughout the land.

 _ **I love him with every fiber of my constitution.**_

And I so I wanted to go to where he was, to be with him. And that was why I had become a participant in a ritual.

Descended from three great families and immense magi, this magical ceremony was held on a small island to the east. Seven mortal thaumaturgists would summon seven mythical combatants from the Throne of Heroes to engage in a battle to the death, no holds barred, no rules to limit anyone. Beings of legends would verse figures from folklore in a contest of pure strength, skill, and wit. The survivors being the only ones able to call them victorious. All of this for the chance to have a wish granted by the omnipotent ancient relic, the Holy Grail. This rite, this death-match, was called the Holy Grail War. A contest over an object of such immense power that it could change the world to confer your wish.

It was exactly what I required.

I opened my eyes to see nothing but blackness. I could hear the slow drops of water hitting the floor of the cave, their tiny splashes echoing throughout the rounded cavern confines. My eyes adapted to the minimal lighting gradually, but I knew exactly where to go regardless. I moved forward past various spires of stone growing from the floor and ceiling, the thought of finally achieving my goal fueling my feet through the cold, ankle-deep water.

The cavern opened to even bigger expanse. This room was hundreds of meters tall, with unnaturally smooth stone walls that came together like a massive dome. A glowing object that stood at the top of an underground hill was able light the entire area with ease. I climbed the hill, the knock of my boots against the carved step rebounding off the walls of the cave and melting into one another. It was disorientating honestly, but the it was pushed down by excitement powering the beating heart as I came face to face with a golden chalice. It was large, almost half a meter wide and a single meter tall. Complicated engravings of various runes and spell words created a beautiful facade of fragility and delicateness, but also gave it an atmosphere straddling the border between awe-inspiring and fear inducing.

I opened the palm of my hands to reveal seven golden rings.

"I offer you, Holy Grail, the seven souls of seven beings. Keeper of Balance, to observe and bear witness to this exchange."

A soft white glow appeared around the circumference of the rings, slowly growing in brightness as they gently floated into the air. They arranged themselves into a circle in the air, rotating in a lackadaisical manner until they stacked upon one another and fell into the golden vessel.

A sound suspiciously similar to a musical hum filled my ears, soon becoming indistinguishable from the sharp and unpleasant ringing noise that was assaulting the canals. The light emanating from the Holy Grail began to pulse, growing in intensity with every throb. Within moments I was overwhelmed by it and was in a white haze. It felt like I was floating in a warm void, riding invisible waves of energy within the blank space around me. Opening and closing my eyes did not change what I saw, vision was irrelevant here. None of the senses were, not hearing, tasting, touching, nor smelling. Instead my mind was the sole housing for me, and it was now being gingerly greeted by a foreign arm. Almost like the ail of a cat it softly touched my soul, its force was not any heavier than a leaf falling upon my skin in autumn, but it had more care than the hands Roman sculptor.

 _What is it… that you desire… Champion of… the Heaven's Feel?_

I smiled and confidently spoke, "I had in my castle, tall mirrors. They were given to me by the Vampire Marshal to alleviate my affliction of monotony. Such magnificent constructs allowed me to view events in other worlds parallel to our own in their reflection. They entertained me, and I would sit for hours on end and observe various timelines of worlds just across the dimension from us. One day, by chance, I saw a young man stuck in combat against a demigod in one of the glasses. It was amusing at first, seeing a human stand up to power that was overwhelming even to me. But he did not falter, instead he would always stand, and never give up on his ideals. He is the most heroic of all the heroes, for raison d'etre is just that: to be a savior. I was completely entranced by this man. I fell in love with him. And naturally, I wanted to meet him and convey the feelings I have. But the fates are cruel, for there was no world, no possibility, where we could ever connect. We were bound to exist at contrasting times and lands, even in other mirror worlds. Such is the fate the world has decreed upon us. It saddened me so, and hardened my resolve. Thus, my request."

 _You wish for this?... Is this your deepest want?_

I place a hand over my heart, trying to channel the emotions and have them empower the words I would declare next:

" **I WISH UPON YOU HOLY GRAIL, ALLOW ME TO BE WITH MY LOVE: SHIROU EMIYA!"**

A deep rumbling within the ether was the beginning. Cosmic entitles collided, rubbed and moved past one another like impossibly large gears, twisting the very make of the universe. Time and space would expand and contract, making each point of any plane indistinguishable from one another. I lost whatever sense of self and place I had to begin with in an instant. Various invisible hands grabbed my spirit and tugged violently at my consciousness. They threatened to split me into parts, drawn and quartered straight into the netherworld. But I was not afraid, I deep within myself I knew that my wish was granted. I exhaled slowly with a small smile beginning to curl at my lips.

And then there was nothing.

* * *

It was raining heavily in the forest. The branches of trees whistled and shook violently as wind and water whipped through them without mercy. Needless to say, it was dangerous to be roaming the woods at this time. Brief flashes of lightning created veins of super-heated air, as if corroborated the silent warning. Followed soon after by booming thunder, which was without doubt, doubling down on Mother Nature's threat.

But the hint was lost upon Scathach.

She strode through the growth with a casual and assured gait, acting as though she was unfazed by the storm billowing around her. To say she was "acting" would be an exaggeration, she was truly not affected by the storm in the slightest. The falling rain did not wet her long, lustrous, purple hair. Neither did it stain her dark clothing: a skin-tight garb that sought to emphasize the sensual curves that drove even the greatest of men mad in the past. The wind did not sway her hair, nor did it impede her direction, able to walk wherever she wished. The reason for this strange phenomenon was because of her constitution. If one observed intently enough, they would notice a tiny space of air covering her body and over her clothing. This was a thin layer of divinity that rendered her immune to the effects of the elements. She could only be disturbed when she allowed it to occur.

Scathach was a human who was tasked with guarding the Land of Shadows from both the living and dead, given this duty by her forefathers who themselves, also performed this burden centuries before her. She was the heir of a royal line that were devoted to their territory since the ancient times, watching over this gap between life and death, their Land of Shadows. Even from an early age, Scathach was head and shoulders above even the most powerful of her kin, those before and after could never compare. She possessed faultlessness in mind and body, and a desire to achieve absolute dominion of all things around her. This combined to create one of the most powerful warriors in the land of Ulster, renown even to the southern lands and isles to the east. Scathach stood guardian of the land and protected it from the souls of the underworld and the dangers of humans from the "surface" level. She had stayed there for centuries, using the time to improve herself. Of course, the Queen of Shadows was not without conflict, having fought several legendary demons and countless ghosts that threatened her reign. Centuries of battle led her to perfection of mind, body, and technique and she spontaneously developed divinity. Almost as if even the World itself had to acknowledge and bow before her excellence; a warrior of such caliber that she gained divinity through brute force, not needing the interference of gods. Being was an existence that was of Gaia's control had lasting effects, and she was forever bound to the land until the day of the end of everything. Scathach found herself feeling unfulfilled and lonesome in a territory that refused to change even at the behest of ever-marching time.

Or at least that had been the case up until now.

Six years ago, the Land of Shadows faded out of existence, like smoke blown away by a breeze. In Scathach's five hundred-and-some-year-old eyes, it was felt like it happened within a moment. The gray powdered earth that had contained black trees that flew into a violet sky disappeared without drama or fanfare, and with it the onus that shackled Scathach. She was freed. She did not question why, or ponder the consequences of such an event, for those fears were beneath her and outside of her concern. Instead she traveled to the north and quietly resided within the forests that sat atop of the remnants of a Kingdom that descended from her own. The inhabitants of the woods welcomed her warmly, a divine living amongst them was a good omen. She did not intrude upon their homes or feeding grounds, did not take all the water, and kept to herself. Scathach was on good terms with them because they could live in symbiosis.

Which was why her curiosity grew at the sound of crashing trees and the screams of humans. Despite the storm, word spread through the tree tops like wild fire from animal to animal. The fast-paced chatter contained snippets of observations and information that reached her ear.

" _Humans!"_

" _The hounds have gathered! Stay away from here!"_

" _Hunting…"_

" _They are…"_

"… _death everywhere"_

"The Pack...gathered..."

"Be wary-!"

"Keep to home!"

"Killing..."

She had a decent grasp of the language of beasts from her few years of habitation, but the frantic gossip had made it hard to comprehend what they were trying to communicate fully. The gist of it could be guessed, so she left her dwelling within intrigue at she would find. Was she trying to stave off the boredom?

The answer certainly wasn't "no."

A beaten path was before her, used by the humans of the villages to either side of the forest as a road to transport goods and commerce upon oxen-drawn carriages. The rain had turned the dirt path into a mess of soft mud that made passage nigh impossible. However inconvenient it may be for travel now, the mud made tracks and footsteps clear. And of course, she was able to find two parallel lines engraved into the sludge, traces that there was some wheeled object in the forest. Scathach followed the trail of tracks, seeing the frantic lines going from side to side, most likely losing balance in the rain and mud as well as being subjected to the pressure from whatever was chasing them. Scathach walked forward until she felt multiple presences in the distance, all the while coinciding with a small clearing becoming visible in the distance.

Many eyes snapped to her from the nest trees to the sides as she continued down the path. The howls of beasts sang throughout the forest, warning each other of her arrival. As much as the divine were adored, they were also feared. Divine beings were not simple creatures, one does not get such power from lighthearted and pure means. Power breeds conflict, and that made the predators who lived at the top of the food chain nervous at the possibility of having their roles reversed and becoming the hunted. Scathach had purposely hidden her presence and walked silently, only allowing them to see her with their own eyes to ensure she was close enough to whatever was there was to see without giving express signs of approaching.

And what she saw brought made her curl her shapely eyebrows in distaste. A carriage had toppled over, the shattered wooden wheels uselessly turning from the momentum they were carrying just seconds before. Wooden crates spilled over a white tarp, piles of hay littered all over the path. She could hear the screams of a woman, followed equally in volume, by the sound of teeth tearing through flesh.

There was silence.

Scathach allowed her first audible step to be put forth, and a foot touching upon a log embedded in the mud.

 _Tap_

The beast behind the carriage stood up onto his two hind legs. A lean, muscular physique rippled with phantasmic strength beneath a rough and matted fur. His wolf like head had two fidgeting ears that twitched in discomfort. The beast gave a small whine and was answered instantly by a sharp bark from the thicket. This was a lycantropos, colloquially known as a werewolf. His yellow eyes conveyed fear as he stared at Scathach, a pink tongue flicking nervously around his blood-stained snout. He was not alone, as around her the lycantropi made their tensed presences known. Prowling on fours or slowly walking on twos, they scrutinized her, all the while moving in a cautious circular motion in inhuman silence. They were always trying to find cover behind tree trunks and rocks, waiting to see if she would make the first move while they were behind protection.

Scathach wondered what was going through their minds at this moment. Perhaps they were trying to figure out her intentions? Maybe debating between themselves if the Pack, with its advantage of numbers, could handle her in a fight. Many of The Pack wanted to maintain the pride of being one of the most feared and powerful race within the forest, unwilling to back down from a challenge.

Scathach smirked evilly and placed a hand behind her back, her fingers flexed and encircled a cylindrical object from within the shadowy plane of her hair and back. A two-meter-long crimson spear appeared in her hand seamlessly. With little effort, she spun the weapon expertly with a single hand, rotating the spear's shaft between her fingers and placed the butt of the pole upon the felled tree below her feet with the blade pointed skyward. A metallic ring echoed throughout the clearing at the contact, causing the lyncantropi to hold their breaths collectively in anxiousness.

The blood lust from the spear radiated outwards like a red haze, assaulting their senses, with the effect seemingly emboldened by the apparent intentions of its master. A giddy feeling threatened to surface onto her face as she tensed her arm, preparing to swing the demonic pole arm clean through the skull of the first mutt that would challenge her. A wicked smile extended.

"Scatter."

The werewolves wasted no time fleeing. They yelled and yipped to one another, encouraging escape rather than combat against the demonic spear of one of the most feared warriors of all time. They would report back to The Pack Leader immediately! In moments they were miles away, too intimidated to even howl to the main body of The Pack across the river.

"Well that was anti-climatic…" Scathach muttered sadly, a disappointed look coloring her face as she placed her spear back into the shadows behind her.

Scathach walked up to the wagon and began inspecting the remains of the meal the lyncantropos had been engorging on. To the side of the wooden carriage, a young woman laid on the ground with her thin limbs haphazardly splayed in unnatural angles. She wore an exquisite crimson dress with a matching shawl, both with silver embroidery. The clothing must have been beautiful in the past, but they were now tattered rags, soiled and drenched black by dirt and rain. A gaping hole bore out of her abdomen, the entrails spilling outward gruesomely. If she was lucky, she might have died instantly due to shock. Scathach knelt on a single leg, her eyes tracing around the fair face of the lady whose pale white cheeks were forever frozen in the motion of a scream. Judging by her build and facial bones, she was probably in her mid-twenties, still having a rounded face and shapely chin characteristic of youth. The eyes were a beautiful amber in color, going well with the platinum blonde hair that shone even in death. Scathach's fingers gently pulled the eyelids of the beautiful woman shut, softly muttering prayers that wished for this soul to reach the afterlife peacefully.

She then spotted something shimmering near the woman's hand. The dead's fingertips were coated in a silvery substance, that when followed would lead to a spell circle just below her palm, hidden at first but noticeable if one got closer.

"A platinum spell circle?" Scathach inspected the intricate drawing, "It seems like it was intended to... move something? I haven't seen many of these characters before. They look neither Gaelic nor English."

She abandoned the analysis of the circle and turned her attention to the other riders of the cart. Four men to be precise, three warriors wearing armor of astounding quality and one man in leather gear, most likely the cabbie who directed the horse. A noblewoman who was traveling with an envoy of knights for protection seemed like the likely story. The spearwoman questioned the sanity of the deceased group for the very thought of wandering into the forest in these conditions. The lack of any supplies, such as extra clothing, extra food, and water quickly struck this theory down. The group had left hastily by the looks of it, some type of emergency that required immediate travel.

But there was only so much she could guess from discombobulated limbs and torsos strewn all over. The werewolves had feasted on them voraciously, not even leaving bones remaining in some cases.

She would give the remaining bodies a proper burial in the morning, they deserved at least such a gesture in death. Scathach stood and tilted her head at the sky. To her dismay the clouds were gray and angrily rolled across the canopy of trees, giving no signs of the storm letting up. She stood up to leave, preparing a message to spread to the forest denizens of the tragic events that took place.

"I should probably go and contact the-"

 _Waaaaaaaahhhhhh!_

A shrill cry pierced through the air. The sound was high pitched and distinct, as though it was designed by nature to travel as far as possible.

 _Waaaaaaaaaaahhhh!_

It repeated. Scathach slowly paced towards the source of the sound, which appeared to be emanating from the rear of the carriage.

 _Waaaaaaaaahhhhhh! Waaaaaaaaaahhhh! Wa- waaaaaahhhhh!_

Scathach brushed aside the straw that covered a box. Except she found that it wasn't just loose vegetation, in fact it was a blanket of straw tied together and lined with cloth. A carpet of beige weeds that was used to conceal an opening. She pulled the tarp aside and peered inside.

 _Hic-hic WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! WAHHH!_

It was a baby.

A tiny baby with red hair was wrapped loosely in a dark woolen maroon cloth, hidden within a perforated wooden crate. How did the lycantropi miss him? Scathach thought in disbelief as she came closer to the infant. The gap in the fabric confirmed that he was indeed male, and he seemed to be relatively healthy from the sound the set of lungs he had were producing. More alarmingly, only a single arm was waving in the air with distress. Scathach pushed some of the cloth aside, the left side of his body was missing the upper and lower parts of the limb. Only a shoulder blade remained, as if a reminder to highlight the absence of humanity's primary tool. The spearwoman moved on instinct, leaning downward with an extended index finger towards the child. To her shock the baby stopped crying and stared at the protrusion in front of him with scrunched eyes before reaching up and seizing the digit with his feeble hand. There was surprising strength in that grip.

A perplexing emotion began to bubble up in the warrior queen, seemingly leaving her lungs numb and out of breath.

"Alright little babe, uppsie daisy," Scathach scooped up the package of fabric and flesh into her arms, "No need to be afraid, you're safe now."

Did the child understand? She said it more for her own ease of mind really.

Her eyes returned to the inside the box where another intricate circle of platinum lie, previously hidden by the baby.

Was this circle hiding the presence of the child? It was possible but two circles were not needed for that, neither did they require such complexity. On closer inspection, it looked identical to the magic circle near the noblewoman. It was unlikely that the two circles were unrelated. From what Scathach could infer, their spell compositions were essentially the same, but with differences in specifying what the target was and who would be sustaining the spell. Scathach had little knowledge of contemporary magic, and could only hypothesize their purpose.

A small sniffle brought her attention back to the small bundle of warmth in her hands. He had stopped shuddering, and slowly opened his eyes fully. And Scathach beheld the most beautiful pair of golden orbs she had ever seen. They seemed to glow in the night, an ethereal glimmer within the golden iris'. It was enchanting.

The perplexing feeling from before spread, a longing from the depths of her heart reached out toward him.

The infant made a small gurgle, staring at her with his dazzling eyes widened in curiosity and small mouth agape. The Queen of the Land of Shadows sighed and carefully wrapped the baby a tad tighter, hoping that the cloth would help to help ward off the cold.

"Let us get you out of this rain, Little One."

As she walked away from the ruin, a child cradled in her arms, an invisible weight had begun to slip from her shoulders. Bulk she did not know she was carrying, relieved. The stickiness of apprehension faded from the back of her mind. As much as she may have disliked it, the Land of Shadows gave purpose to her life and her actions. With its loss, she was also lost. A yearning would pull at her bit by bit, as Scathach would occasionally glance down at her charge and see the child staring back at her with the same expression. Even if it was sudden and without warning, she had something to work towards now. She would be taking care of... wait a second…

"What do I call you? Do you have a name?"

The child did not answer. A small panic rose, as Scathach had no experience naming children. Even worse, what if this child already had a name? Will the family (if they came searching) be able to recognize the young one with it?

 _Shirou_

A small voice spoke in her mind. Young, feminine, and strangely familiar, and it cut through her thoughts like a blade.

 _Shirou_

It spoke again. Scathach thought nothing of it, ghosts were real after-all.

"That sounds like a nice name," Scathach whispered into her arms, "Shirou."

They went home.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

 **Hello again, readers!**

 **Welcome to my new project: A Strange Instance of Ulster.**

 **Yes, I know I spelled it wrong in the first version uploaded, forgive me for my oversight. I must have revised this chapter a minimum of five times, finding new mistakes each time. I should probably look for an editor ASAP.**

 **So a new work. This is a story of desire. In summary, a mysterious woman so enraptured in our Hero, Shirou Emiya, has won the Holy Grail in some far-off time and place. She makes a wish, demanding she meet her treasured one. However, they are separated karmically, forever bound by the universe to always exist at separate times and in different worlds; never to meet. The Holy Grail grants her wish by reaching out and tying together multiple realities and allow the rendezvous of her dreams. This is a strange land in a strange universe. Rules bend and break, and strange anomalies occur. Such as the disappearance of the Land of Shadows.**

 **What** **woman is capable of this. Who is she? That's a secret!**

 **I also saw this perfect opportunity to also explore an idea for Shirou's past I had floated in my mind. Who was he before the fire? Soon we will know. And just to clarify he is the baby at the end, and yes, he only has one arm. Finding out which arm to be missing was maddening. The art online is never consistent about his anatomy, with the discrepancy extending to even the official art!**

 **In the end I have decided to use the visual novel as my source for art. So Shirou's left arm will be missing.**

 **Why left? Shirou's magic circuits are contained in his left arm, his command seals were on his left hand, and Archer's left arm was attached to his left side. Coincidence? I think not!**

 **This will be an important plot point further down the line when I start introducing politics.**

 **The inspiration for this story was mostly happenstance. I am excitedly awaiting the release of Fate/Grand Order in North America, so to prepare I began researching the roster of Servants.**

 **What caught my eye was the description for a certain Lancer: Scathach. She was the teacher of Cu Chulainn and various other heroes. She was so powerful that she had went and basically achieved divinity by pure virtue of ability. One of the most powerful humans to date in my opinion. She guarded the Land of Shadows (a place for spirits and ghosts to reside in) from the Underworld and was tasked with this until the end of time. Scathach was the one to give Cu Chulainn his cursed spear: Gae Bolg.**

 **Scathach in FGO is numb, having lost feeling from her time guarding the Land of Shadows. The more celestial she became, the more she was removed from her human site and sensibilities. So I thought it would be funny to pit this super-woman against something she is completely unfamiliar with: raising a baby. This is going to be very fun to write. I hope I can properly portray their interactions in the chapters to come.**

 **The woman in the first scene was also found during my research into Fate/Grand Order, if many are curious about who she is. Some hints: she is of the Rider class and was drawn by Takayama-sensei.**

 **Please note that this story is mostly unplanned and just going off my whims. I have been working on an outline for a larger story that will arrive later down the line. Thank you for being patient.**

 **Salutations, and as always, I highly appreciate reviews and feedback. I will try my best to address each review. Thank you!**

 **Sou[Bu]**


	2. Chapter 01: The First Hurdle

**Chapter (I): The First Hurdle**

Many great scholars and philosophers have theorized about "the nether." A time just before we come into existence, and just after we die. They explained elaborate hypotheses about the what we would experience and what the soul would undergo during the brief moments our consciousness travels. But for every answer they put forth, another question would arise. Is the soul always created newly? Is reincarnation possible? How does reincarnation differ from a new birth? Is the soul ever aware of what is occurring? So, the people took over. They developed religions that would paint fantastical stories of ideas of birth, rebirth, and passing on. Each belief having their own unique viewpoint of what it was like, at "the nether."

Unfortunately, it was not anything as dramatic as everyone expected.

The passage felt instantaneous, as there was no break in my memory. My soul simply shifted from one body into another without fanfare or spectacle. No conversation with deities who were duty bound with guarding the passage of souls, nothing to mark the occasion of rebirth.

The abstract feeling of a new "now," just knowing that I had come into being. Instinctually.

"She's beautiful, darling" a woman spoke softly.

"Quite clearly takes after you then," a man jokingly replied, "To think I was months late from her birth. Gods forgive me."

I opened my eyes slowly to stare up at a blurry face. Looking around, a familiar four-post bed with satin drapes filled my vision, accompanied by equally familiar windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. My mother had enjoyed the natural sunlight they brought into the castle, and insisted on having every major area renovated, my father consented quickly. A hand waving in front of my face broke my gaze, causing me to turn towards the owner of the appendage. Long brown hair spilled from the top of his scalp to his shoulders, along with a shaggy beard and moustache that gave him a dignified look. A golden crown sat atop of it all. He had a well-defined nose and strong cheeks bones, if a tad sunken from the stress of being a ruler, but did little to mar his handsome visage. His green eyes were glazed over, as if holding back tears, not of sadness, but of joy. His hand softly rubbed my cheek and hair.

"My child," he called gently.

I wanted to respond, to say: "It is I, cherished Father!" in greeting.

Instead a happy snort was all that came out from my mouth.

My mother and father laughed simultaneously. I tried moving my arms and legs in protest, but they strangely felt disconnected from my body, numb and heavy.

"She's going to be an energetic one," my mother observed, lifting me higher in the air, "Already so spirited as a babe."

"Exactly what the castle needs," my father huffed, "Breathe some life in here, constantly seeing old men makes the atmosphere stale."

My mother chuckled at his words, all the while slowly rocking me in her arms.

"You will be Queen one day, little Daughter," my mother whispered, "And what a wonderful Queen you will be."

Wait, I _could_ be Queen? Wasn't I already…

Ah.

I was born again.

The revelation brought my mind to an abrupt halt. The lush green fields and a clear blue sky out of the window wasn't right, I was born at the tail end of the snowy season. And my father looked older than he should have been when I was born, the same with my mother. Her long pink hair was tied into a braid, something she only did in her later years. Instead of the elaborate outfits I remember her wearing she wore a single colored dress. Modest, but expressing her beauty and wealth in a more tasteful manner. Her face never really aged as far as I could recall, but she had developed laugh lines as the years passed; the beginnings of which I could see forming now. The only conclusion I could draw was that I was born years later than I was supposed to. That meant…

Things had changed.

My wish had brought about a difference in my own timeline.

Could that also mean…?

 _ **I had altered destiny?**_

* * *

Understanding the geography of the Isles is essential to understanding those who live on them.

Tiny islands littered around the mainland, varying in sizes. They were mostly fishing colonies with established villages that kept in touch with the rest of the populace on the central island. The mainland was a large landmass that sat between the islands, the most distinctive feature being a forest and mountain range that separated the are into two halves: North and South. Differences in climate from the resulting natural barrier obviously led to differences in language (nothing serious, just minor dialects) and culture to develop due to isolation. The people of the North and South considered one another to be "different." Hostilities did occur occasionally, but the natural barriers discouraged any major conflict it for the most part. And regardless, the two sides had far bigger problems from inside their regions. There was no organized and overarching kingdom, both sides of the island were a mess of city states. It was a chaotic time, but also a simpler one.

And because of these factors, Phantasmal Beasts still roamed this island. Their numbers did not drop, despite the Age of Gods dwindling to an end. The island had a diverse range of biomes and harsh environments that proved to be perfect habitats for these magical creatures. While Humans can manipulate the Earth's landscape to make livable areas anywhere they please, Phantasmal Beasts could not. Whatever the land around them contained, was what they had to adapt to. The Phantasmal Beasts are all creatures that stand on top of the hierarchy of animals, in direct competition with one another as a result. Struggles over food, water, and territory was common place for millennia. Only the strong survived, and they would live long enough to pass on their genes and abilities to their offspring, and those of their offspring that could improve further would pass that down to their own children. A cycle that would distill the breed as natural selection took place. The subsequent creatures were so well suited to the environment that even in a small population, every member would live to adulthood and reproduce: ensuring the survival of the species through sheer supremacy over their niche. No one else could live in that area but them.

And there was no stronger animal than those that could utilize magic.

Unlike humans, Phantasmal Beasts are born with the knowledge of how to use their magic: the instincts hardwired into their brains, allowing them to utilize magic as easily as one breaths. They had no need for incantations, spell words, circles, or runes. Of course, without the system of thaumaturgy the Beasts had no way to produce a variety of spells, but the lack of diversity was exchanged for pure potency and mastery in a few abilities: instant regeneration, invisibility, vast strength, blinding speed, breathing fire, lightning generation, etcetera etcetera…

In this respect, they were far above the levels Human magecraft.

If you asked most warriors and adventurers of their opinion, they would all agree that everything stated above is dribbling gibberish (the politer ones would say "irrelevant"). All you needed to know were Phantasmal Beasts were really, really, really, really, really dangerous. And that you should probably consider what deity to pray towards when you come face to face with one.

Of course, Scathach would encounter one in the worst of situations.

"Alright, let's get you over this."

Scathach called out over her shoulder to the makeshift backpack that slung diagonally from her shoulder to her waist. Shirou sat in a bundle of cloth that wrapped all his body minus the face, facing forward over her other shoulder getting a good look at the world. Runes to keep away the cold and wind were applied like a pattern across the surface. Such a sling was designed to allow Scathach to move freely while carrying the child, wishing to use a short cut by climbing up a cliff to quickly cross the snowcapped mountain ranges. The warrior queen personally though it was a clever idea: baby Shirou would be warm and safe, and she would have her arms free to make travel efficient. Theoretically this would cut down a day's worth of travel into just a few hours (it should be noted that a normal human being would either take seven days or die in the snow).

However, even the greatest of plans meant little when it was used by a Hero with a Luck stat of Rank "D."

Scathach climbed nearly a mile by sticking to the sheer cliffside wall. As soon as she pushed herself onto the snow at the top of the overhang, a blizzard immediately hit. This was probably the first omen that Scathach should have noticed, but a snowstorm on a mountain wasn't anything strange.

The snow that billowed in the harsh winds did nothing but give the Queen of Shadows slight discomfort, having activated the same runes as on Shirou's sling. Her annoyance stemmed from the unfortunate fact that her line of sight was completely ruined by a wall of white frozen precipitation.

She traversed through the storm, confident she was walking straight to her destination on the other side of the mountain. Her poise was short lived, as in the next moment her balance left her. A misstep in the loose snow that gave way, suddenly falling into an opening within the mountain. Prioritizing Shirou's safety, she angled herself so her legs would absorb all the landing from the fall. With a thundering sound, she touched down upon the ground. Looking above, Scathach saw a large hole where daylight was spilling in from. Nearly a drop of fifty meters from the surface. The soft gurgle from her back indicating Shirou was okay.

Her nose twinged as it noticed an acrid smell permeating the air around her. The sunlight from the opening high above shined upon something that made her heart sink. In this cavern surrounding her, were rotting corpses. Not of humans, but of animals. And by the looks of it, they were in the middle of being eaten. A loud snort, and heavy breathing alerted her to its presence. She slowly twisted around to come face to face with a white bear…that was the size of a large house.

"This is…" Scathach rolled her tongue around the inside of her mouth trying to find a word that adequately described how she felt at this particular moment, "…troublesome…"

The giant bear - clearly not enthused from being woken in the middle of hibernation- responded by rearing its haunches and letting out a rage filled roar that shook her ear drums, Poor Shirou was caught completely off guard by the and began wailing in fear. While Scathach would normally immediately try to calm the infant down, there were more pressing matters at hand. She dove to the side to avoid the giant paw that came slamming down in the area where she just was. The hard stone floor had a new indent the shape of a paw and five centimeters deep. Scathach strafed around the bear swiftly, deciding to do something reckless as a quick means of escape. Within a second, she hunched down and squeezed her quadriceps and hamstrings while pouring prana into them. Reinforcing them to superhuman limits, she released the energy like a spring, shooting straight up at the speed of a missile. The spearwoman cleared the hole she and Shirou originally fell through and flew into the stormy sky with distance to spare. Scathach landed upon the soft fluff, her legs disappearing into the deep snow with a soft thud.

In the chaos, Shirou had gone silent. Scathach quickly looked over her shoulder, afraid he might have passed out from the forces of the implausible vertical jump. But he was looking straight at her, with mouth open and eyes sparkling in amazement. Scathach was about to sigh in relief…

RRAWWWWWWWWRRRRRRR

… but was interrupted by a recognizable bellow proceeded by the eruption of a snow geyser in the distance. A hulking white mass with heaving muscles made its way to the surface with a pair of fuming red eyes zeroing in on Scathach, pupils squeezing as the giant polar bear focused on her.

"It's going to get bumpy, Shirou!" Scathach shouted, pulling out a crimson spear from the shadows of her hair.

The beast jumped, it's massive muscles undulating underneath the fur from the forces they were producing. Scathach quickly leapt backwards as an explosion of snow went up in front of her, the bear landing with tremendous impact. Scathach held no illusion of who would win a test of strength: she would get pulverized in a head on confrontation. Phantasmal Beasts were far more powerful than humans could ever truly be. To put things in perspective, even killing _**one**_ Phantasmal Beast was enough to have your name written down in legend and song as a Hero, immortalized forever in culture.

Monsters like that tended to be difficult to deal with.

The white creature wasn't fazed by her escape, taking lunging swipes at the warrior. Scathach did not panic at the sight of razor sharp claws flying towards her, having understood years before that skill could be used as an adequate counter to overcome physical deficiencies. Scathach twisted her back and thin waist. With steady breathing, she swung her spear, carefully calculating the trajectory of her weapon so that the arc of the spear perfectly led the blade head to graze off the steel-like talon, deflecting the attack away from her body with barely any of her own strength required. She smirked; for what good was godly strength if you could not utilize it? The bear swung with either arm once more, but with Scathach once again parring the destructive paws away with ease. She spun the spear between her hands, always staying in motion. Another claw sailed at her from a higher angle than normal, going for her head rather than her body. The crimson spear flashed, the talon sliding along the length of the spear and directed upward.

The white bear swung its massive limb yet again zealously, but rage had caused him to overextend. The angle of the strike too shallow and his body too far forward. A mistake.

And nothing escaped Scathach's notice.

Her mind planned it out instantly. As the arm came close she swung her spear once more, knocking the sharp claws away harmlessly. But instead of compensating for the momentum, she kept with it, using the force to spin her body and draw the length of the red blade across the flesh of the beast's arm. A single red line erupted where the blade touched, blood showing visibly upon the white fur. But she wasn't done, for the beast was still moving from the thrust of his own attack, and his head was lining up perfectly with the path of the spearhead.

"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!" a cry of pain and shock.

Scathach's impeccable blade sliced clear through his left eye.

A strange sound and the bear fell back, paws clutching the side of his head trying to stem the bleeding. Scathach untied the sling which contained Shirou, holding him in one hand. She had to time this next move perfectly. The bear slammed both of his arms into the ground, roaring in pure unadulterated wrath. Scathach could feel the prana start building within its body. Its muscles suddenly puffing and enlarged, the bleeding in its eye stopped by the lid closing off the wound. The feeling of its presence increased dramatically in terms of magical footprint, becoming almost overwhelming. The bear jumped at her and Shiro at speeds that did not correlate with its size. Both arms came crashing down for a strike so wide it would to be impossible to dodge in time.

"Hold on tight, Little One!"

And she flung him high into the air, and used the now freed hand to procure her second crimson spear. Scathach held the two spears across her head in a defensive posture, bracing for the impact

" _ **cloch Dhochorraithe!"**_ she incanted. All over her body Runes sprang to life, primordial characters that glowed with an azure hue.

The upper body of the bear crashed upon the two spears. Being made from the bones of a demon, the spears were strong enough to not snap under the unearthly impact that could shatter a castle wall. Scathach took the full brunt of the attack head on and stood steadfast, a blue aura surrounding each foot keeping her in place like a boulder. The female magus was impressed by the multitude of levels the bears strength increased by merely generating od, a truly amazing use of energy.

Too bad her own magic was far superior.

She Reinforced her arms in simultaneous contraction with her body, and pushed. With strength nearly rivaling her opponent, the beast was sent onto his hind legs, the sudden motion throwing him off balance. In that sliver of a moment Scathach took advantage of the space that was created, using it for a running start and using it to jump into the air. At the apex of her leap, she rotated her body and delivered a bicycle kick with the tip of her boot into the chin of the bear, sending him reeling. The force of the attack sending the brain of the bear crashing against the inside of his skull, bruising the fragile mass of neurons and fat. It was a concussion strong enough to leave him stunned; immobilized for just a few moments.

And finally, the opportunity the purple-haired warrior wanted to make was here. Scathach filled her two spears with prana, the crimson rods glowing as the curses were stimulated by the magical energy. She pitched one arm backward and aimed. Confident it would land where she wanted it to, she activated the weapon's true nature with a shout of its name.

 _ **"Soaring Spear of Piercing Death- GAE BOLG ALTERNATIVE!"**_

And Scathach pitched the spear with grace, the weapon igniting into a ball of red fire as it hurtled towards the beast. The rotation of the spear created immense torque, tearing apart the space around it into nothingness. The void created in its wake was a vacuum of such emptiness, even the laws of the universe were affected and weakened. The red spear seemed to lose all energy after that, the glow fading as it hit the bear straight in the chest and harmlessly bounced off the mana-hardened fur.

But the spearwoman wasn't done.

Any idea of aim or control was discarded with the second spear.

She invested complete mental acuity into sending all her strength into this throw. Her lithe and spectacular body moved in a fluid motion that was born form centuries of constant refinement: inhaling as she leaned back, tightening the muscles of her core and shoulders; keeping the arms loose but stable; twisting her legs to gain more gyratory momentum; and finally exhaling as she heaved the weapon while turning. The entire process was simply too fast to see for the naked eye to catch, a whiplash of purple and red that sent a crimson pole-arm rocketing away at a velocity even faster than the first. Traveling through the vacuum the previous spear created at supersonic speeds, it was spinning even faster and gaining more power as it went transforming into a scarlet laser. The weakened causality due to the first spear simply gave way to power of the curse in the second, switching the outcome of the strike.

 _"The spear was thrown so the heart was pierced"_ transformed into _"the heart was pierced so the spear was thrown"_ : a demonic spell that ensured that the spear would always pierce the target's heart.

Scathach watched as the angry red line adjusted at an impossible angle mid-flight without any change to its speed or spin. The light it produced at the point of impact was so blinding, some could mistake it for a shooting star. The tip of the blade pierced the armor-like fur with ease, the rest of the spear passing cleanly through the front of the giant bear and out its dorsal side with little resistance. A thirty-centimeter-wide tunnel that drilled straight through its chest and liquefied the heart stood as testament to the deadly ability she unleashed within moments. The dead Phantasmal Beast teetered and toppled backwards, finally conquered.

The final bout only lasted five seconds.

Scathach held out her arms catching the falling package she had thrown earlier elegantly. Any worries of his condition were swept away by the squeals of laughter the baby made.

"I'm glad at least one of us is enjoying this," she sighed.

Her bad luck not being something to scoff at.

"Milady!" a voice shouted over the din of the ongoing blizzard.

Scathach faced the voice, seeing a figure with a heavy coat standing near. Recognizing who they were, she waved her hand and made her way over.

"Vehiron!" Scathach greeted, "it has been far too long."

Vehiron smiled, "The blizzard just started, I was worried you may have been trapped or lost. I was preparing on coming up the mountain to search for you. It is dangerous after all… but you seem to have taken care of Sairog." His eyes flicked towards the defeated bear.

"I can see why he would be a danger to you," she commented.

"Indeed he was, milady," Vehiron agreed, "He was the largest of all the phoeursa, outgrowing the members of his tribe. Sairog had an insatiable appetite, eating far more than the mountain had to offer. Our hunting grounds at the bottom of the mountain have started to become barren as a result. The Elder was considering creating a hunting party to remove him, but it doesn't appear to be necessary anymore. Thank you for that your Majesty."

Scathach waved her hand's dismissively, "Nonsense, and regardless I'm coming to your people for help with my own problems. Consider it equivalent exchange."

They made their way down the mountain, the severe slopes doing little to hinder their travel. The cold tundra gave way to woodland at an unnatural pace. Vehiron explained that the phoeursa had magic that left the top of the mountain completely frozen year-round. It made roaming inconvenient, but this also meant that the melting snow ensured that the rivers were full of freshwater no matter the season.

The sparse trees soon transformed into a lush green forest, the sound of wild life a welcomed change of pace from the sound of howling winds for Scathach.

Vehiron removed his furry coat and hat, revealing silver hair and baby blue eyes. His pointed ears twitched as it adjusted to being freed from the confines of a cap.

"Welcome to the Elven capital of Sas Dorei milady."

A bustling settlement made between the trees was in front of her. The sounds of commerce and everyday life was in stark contrast to the silence she was familiar with of her forest dwelling. The elves were a race descended from the magical Tuatha De Denaan and the original inhabitants of the island. They excelled at boundary and spatial magic, using it to profound effect when creating a city far bigger than possible within the forest. It was hidden away from the humans of the South, but the magic sensitive folks of the North were frequent visitors as well as residents.

Even with the weakening of the crown in the Kingdom, the elves had maintained order and were an oasis of stability. They had political and economic strengths that dissuaded neighboring tribes and states from attacking or disputing their territorial claims despite the opportunity existing (due once again to the lack of a royal family to lead the kingdom). Vehiron directed her and Shirou down a maze of store fronts and roads until they entered a quiet residential area adorned by a large hill with a chimney lazily puffing smoke. A sign in elvish reading "Nursery," hung above a mahogany door. Inside, a foyer of wooden floors with stairs going in every which combined with the warm glow of candles and the smell of lavender made for a comforting atmosphere.

"Ah your Majesty," a new voice spoke. A figure in a neat white and black gown climbed up a pair of stairs. The pointed ears gave away her elvish nature, brown hair tied into a bun behind a white cap. She looked like a maid in all respects, even mannerisms, "We were expecting you."

"I'm sorry for the trouble Elarinya, but this is something that required your expertise," Scathach apologized. She carefully slid the sling from her back, and cradled Shirou in her arms. Elarinya's eyes widened in surprise as she walked closer to Scathach and Shirou. She peered down at the infant in Scathach's arms and giggled softly.

"The forest has been alive with the talk of milady having a child," Elarinya informed, "To think it was true." She stood up and placed both hands on her hips and gave a crooked smile to Scathach, "Come then, let us see what we can do."

Vehiron took this moment to leave, bowing at the waist, "I leave you in the care of the pediatrician milady, the Elder herself thanks you for your presence today."

"Tell her to think nothing of it. Thank you for your help today Vehiron."

"Of course, milady," the male elf raised an arm over his chest and promptly turned and left.

"Follow me your Majesty." Elarinya motioned, escorting the spearwoman deeper into the building. They came to a room with a soft cradle and chairs. The maid elf waved her hands and whispered, a slot in the wall opening and flooding the room with warm sunlight.

"May I?" Elarinya asked coming close with arm's outstretched.

Scathach nodded and carefully passed Shirou over. Elarinya placed the baby upon the cushion of the cradle, softly unwrapping the layers of cloth. The child had no clothing, and she raised an eye when she noticed the lack of symmetry of his upper body, but said nothing, instead taking note of how the child only moved his head and eyes slowly to take in the unfamiliar person.

"A lethargic movement," the elf commented, "Is there anything else that happened from the time you contacted me?"

"He refused to eat after I sent the message by bird, just wouldn't put anything in his mouth," Scathach elaborated, "Before that he had some diarrhea and trouble sleeping. Crying in some cases."

Elarinya pressed a hand against the Shirou's stomach and palpated softly, trying to feel for any abnormalities. "Well thankfully I don't think there is anything wrong with his stomach or digestive organs. From what I can tell he is suffering from malnourishment, pyrexia, and slight dehydration."

Elarinya slowly wrapped Shirou in the maroon cloth and held him tightly in her arms. She smiled at the small sounds he made, as any baby at this age would easily ignite the maternal instinct within any woman.

"At his age, I am a bit hesitant to feed him anything that is artificial or produced," the maid informed Scathach, "But luckily, there are a few options available for us."

She passed the child back to Scathach- who accepted readily- and gestured for the Queen of Shadows to follow her once more. This time she was lead to a large furnished room with windows, a small bed, and a rocking chair. Upon it was another she-elf in a simple white gown, turning her head to see those who entered. As soon as Scathach passed through the door, the she-elf stood and bowed, giving Scathach a better look. This elf had long and impeccably straight green hair, that straight to her waist. She had a teardrop face with high cheekbones and almond shape eyes that contained deep yellow irises.

"This is Dana," Elarinya introduced, "She has recently given birth to a pair of twins and will stay in the nursery until they are a few moons of age."

"It is an honor to meet you, Lady Scathach," greeted Dana, rising from her brow.

"Congratulations on your children," complimented Scathach with a small smile on her face, "How are they?"

"Both of my boys are perfectly healthy, thank the gods," Dana said with a small laugh of gratitude.

Elarinya strode forward and placed a hand on Dana's shoulder, "Dana, her Majesty Scathach has brought her child today. He is a few months of age, and suffering from some minor afflictions. Would you be willing to feed him?"

Dana looked at Scathach's arms with surprised eyes. "Lady Scathach's child? Of course, I would certainly be able to."

Scathach gave a face of appreciation and moved to give Shirou over to the mother elf. Dana carefully accepted the bundle. She slowly sank into the rocking chair and looked at the infant in her arms. Shirou squirmed but did nothing else to Dana's wonder, instead looking up curiously at the strange person in front of him. She cooed to the child softly and strike his button nose and cheek with a single long and delicate finger.

"He's an adorable child," Dana said to no one in particular. Scathach agreed in her mind vehemently with a small amount of pride. "What is his name?"

"Shirou."

"Charming little Shirou then…"

Dana placed the child on her lap and reached to the back of her neck, unbuttoning the gown. The clothing fell away to display gorgeous and flawless milky-white skin that stirred not just a little bit of envy in the Queen of Shadows (who was still a woman at the end of the day, mind you). As the front of the gown came down, a pair of round breasts were revealed. Perfect in shape and firmness that denied sagging, the only abnormal sight was the swollen areolas and nipples. Dana carefully raised Shirou to her chest, and let the infant's instincts take over, a single hand reaching and angling himself to place his lips on the mother elf's right teat. The sound of happy suckling filled the room as Dana breastfed Shirou, with the care and affection like he was her own babe. A strange longing filled Scathach's as she stared at the picture-perfect scene.

"Oh my," Dana commented at the ferocity the child was drinking, "He must have been quite hungry." A musical giggle leaving her perfect lips.

"Indeed, this seems to be the case," Elarinya said, "Elven breast milk and human breast milk are nearly identical, seeing as both races are from the same ancestor. Though I wonder, what you have been feeding him before this, Lady Scathach?"

Scathach remembered back to three days ago, to the morning after she had taken Shirou home. "Hmm, I thought that all babies drink milk. He had taken it for the first day, but suffered from diarrhea the following morning."

"Ah, that would explain it. You see Lady Scathach, infant children lack the enzymes to break down the lactose in cow's milk. They will drink, but their little bodies won't be able to digest the milk and absorb the nutrients. Instead it will be fill their stomach, but still leave them hungry and undernourished. The undigested milk will upset their digestive system and lead to diarrhea since their body wishes to rid of the material. Ah, don't worry your Majesty, it is a common mistake I assure you. No actual harm done." Elarinya quickly waved her hands to reassure the look of guilt on Scathach's face.

"Umm," Dana interrupted with hesitation, looking down at her arms, "I do not know for certain, but does he only have a single arm?"

"Yes," Scathach confirmed, "When I found him in the forest he only had his right side with arm and hand."

"Have you tried to regenerate it with magic, milady?" Elarinya asked, intrigued.

Scathach shook her head, "I have, and nothing occurred. It is most likely that he was born like this."

"How unfortunate…" Dana sighed, and brushed the child's red hair, "What of his _kaes_ then?"

"His magic?" Scathach thought for a second, "I have checked and found no magic circuits anywhere, and very little od within him. His internal ley lines continue off to this left side and simply stop at the shoulder blade."

"I see, this is strange then…" Dana muttered, her eyes following Elarinya who walked towards a cupboard to procure tea plates and cups.

"What is?"

"Shirou seems mana contained within him, his body bursting to the brim in fact."

"Ah, that might because I gave him berry juice with mana crystals infused into it."

The sound of broken china and coughing made Scathach jump.

"WHAT?!" Dana and Elarinya both shouted incredulously.

"E-excuse me?" the purple woman asked nervously, the pressure causing her to take a step backwards.

"With all due respect Lady Scathach, why on Earth would you have a child ingest mana directly?" Elarinya questioned in disbelief.

"W-well you see. He stopped drinking milk so I thought that he might want to drink juice instead because the taste would be better. And then I thought 'I should cover any nutritional gap by filling this with as much mana as I can'. And…" Scathach's voice trailed off.

Elarinya and Dana simultaneously groaned.

"It seems we now know where the fever is coming from," the maid sighed, leaning down to pick the broken earthenware off the floor. "Mana and mana generation are tied heavily to metabolism. The presence of mana leads to elevated internal body temperatures. And I can only imagine that the amount coming from a divine being such as yourself must have led to a fever in the Shirou's miniature body."

"O-oh…" Scathach mumbled, a finger scratching her cheek in embarrassment.

Elarinya placed the debris into a dust bin. The head-maid of the nursery turned around, hands folded with a determined look on her face.

"You will stay here your Majesty," the elf-maid ordered, her tone so stern enough to raise the hairs on the back of Scathach's neck, "For two months so Shirou can be fed properly. In that time, we will teach you how to raise a child so he can hopefully survive when he returns with you to the other side of the mountain."

"T-thank you…"

Dana smiled gently at Scathach, remembering her own learning curve when she discovered she was pregnant. Elves do not reproduce often, at most twice in their long existences. Motherhood was a sacred thing, and the raising of children placed above all else in importance. She felt a release of pressure from below, looking down to see Shirou having stopped drinking.

"Alright then," Dana said standing up, "Let's get you back to your mother."

Scathach froze in place at the last spoken word, not budging as Dana came closer with the red headed infant. The mother elf placed the child into Scathach's chest. Dana began to carefully guide Scathach's arms into a proper cradle with her own, "One arm should be slanted, to support his spine. The other arm should be used to keep him close to your body, with the hand being used to support the neck. Remember that the muscles in an infant's necks are very weak, and are unable to hold up their heads…and there we go."

Dana stepped away, the spearwoman suddenly feeling completely out of her element.

She looked down at the happily babbling child in her arms. Scathach leaned downward, her long hair spilling around the sides to create a purple curtain that separated them from the outside world. Shirou was instantly captivated, and reached out to gently grab a lock of hair. Scathach let a small laugh escape her, and nuzzled the cheek of the child with her nose, rewarded by the sound of a giggling Shirou.

Things would be alright after all.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Hello, dear readers:**

 **I hope you enjoyed Chapter 2 of "A Strange Instance of Ulster"**

 **First of all! The response for the last chapter was amazing! Thank you all! I felt absolutely humbled by your response, and it further motivated me to punch out this next portion. I am a bit of a perfectionist and I was absolutely embarrassed by the number of typos and ill-decided word choices. So, I spent three days editing this, excuse my lateness. I still had to reupload this chapter a few times XD. A huge shoutout to everyone who told me the errors, the fixes have been made!**

 **This chapter has established the basic plan of attack that I have chosen for this story. I was considering a time skip after the prologue, but I wanted to focus more on Scathach's journey as a mother and how she grows along with Shirou. In this chapter Scathach travels over the mountains and meets with the elves of the forest for a basic problem: how do you feed a child?**

 **yes, an insight into Scathach. As much as she is a self-confident warrior who has transcended humanity into the realm of the divine, she is also equally air-headed. I thought it would be funny to tell a story where the invincible woman cannot complete the first step of taking care of a child: feeding him/her! But she is responsible, and goes for help rather than attempting to solve it herself. She clearly feels for him, maternal instincts and the natural desire to avoid being lonely being the main part.**

 **The polar bear fight is inspired by my time in the Korean-mmo "Vindictus," where one of the most memorable boss fights was against a giant polar bear. I vividly remember that boss being the first I truly spent time to learn how to solo with a pure DPS character (ironically a spear user). A game mechanic in Vindictus is to use spears to break portions of a boss' body for special items, which helped me imagine and illustrate the battle scene. I hope I did it justice. I have always had trouble writing action in the past, but I found this one came out more naturally than ever. It also was quite long, am I possibly finally overcoming my chronic writer-issue of always writing too short? Hopefully.**

 **I always found it strange that people in the fanfiction side of FSN love the character's being overpowered despite what was described in the source material. As I mentioned in the story, Phantasmal Beasts are STRONG. A hero who can kill even one is almost automatically upgraded to the Throne of Heroes. I wanted to get that across here, Sairog the Giant Polar Bear is physically powerful. Enough that he could have probably defeated Scathach if this was straight wrestle. I will continue with this idea of "balanced" power levels.**

 **Next is the scene at the city of the Elves. I may be going a bit graphic, but I'm trying to keep the nude as academic as I can (helps that I had no male characters at that moment). It's just an aspect of motherhood that you can't really ignore, breast feeding is part of the culture, so inappropriateness was not my intention. I will increase the rating to M if I feel I'm pushing it.**

 **And**

 **Regarding the elves, Elarinya was a joy to describe. I imagined her as a softer Sella from FHA (same uniform!), but also unwilling to back down. Her Charisma stat so high, she intimidates even Scathach. Vehiron will be a returning character, I am not sure about Elarinya and Dana. They were mostly just OC's I made up on the spot. Scathach's legacy as a Queen is known by all those who know who she is are treating her with the proper respect.**

 **And the mysterious lady returns! Most of you have already figured it out, but I'll keep the secret going. I've spent much time looking at some fan art for her, and I have to say I'm liking her character more and more.**

 **In other news, Fate Grand/Order is being released today (June 25** **th** **, 2017). Please support the release!**

 **I am also desperately looking for an editor/beta-reader to help me speed up the work flow (grammar, syntax, word choice, plot ideas, etc). If any of you would be willing to spend your valuable time helping me, that would be great!**

 **Up until next time, dear readers.**

 **-Sou[BU]**


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